carried thus, by some one who was so considerate as to save her
the bother of walking.

At the edge of the town, Hazen set her on the ground and at once
began to walk rapidly away in the direction of home. He had gone
perhaps fifty yards when Lass was gamboling merrily around his
feet. A kick sent the dismayed and agonized puppy flying through
the air like a whimpering catapult, and landed her against a bank
with every atom of breath knocked out of her. Before she had
fairly struck ground,--before she could look about her,--Hazen
had doubled around a corner and had vanished.

At a run, he made for home, glad the unpleasant job was over. At
the door his wife met him.

"Well," she demanded, "did you drown her in the canal, the way
you said?"

"No," he confessed sheepishly, "I didn't exactly drown her. You
see, she nestled down into my arms so cozy and trusting-like,
that I--well, I fixed it so she'll never show up around here
again. Trust me to do a job thoroughly, if I do it at all. I--"

A dramatic gesture from Mrs. Hazen's stubby forefinger
interrupted him. He followed the finger's angry point. Close at
his side stood Lass, wagging her tail and staring expectantly up
at him.

With her keen power of scent, it had been no exploit at all to
track the man over a mile of unfamiliar ground. Already she had